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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27551053">Come Here Often?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/djsoliloquy/pseuds/djsoliloquy'>djsoliloquy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Terror (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Are They Bad Pick-Up Lines If They Work, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Dirty Talk, Finger Sucking, Fluff and Smut, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Pick-Up Lines, Semi-Public Sex, They're Really Cute And Gross, Wingman JCR</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:09:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27551053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/djsoliloquy/pseuds/djsoliloquy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You come here often?" Francis says as he walks up. </p><p>The man snorts very loudly into his drink.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fall Fitzier Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Come Here Often?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingbooooo/gifts">kingbooooo</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Fitzier Exchange! This is a mix of your prompts "Using "You come here often?" as a pickup line either genuinely or ironically (modern AU)"  and "Sex somewhere semi-public where they must stay quiet." </p><p>Thank you carnival_papers and icicaille for beta work and emotional support ♥♥</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Francis expects the usual gatherings at these talks—graduate students, a few friends and colleagues, the scattering of physicists and engineers ranging from amateur to professional. These days, the discussion segment has more questions about theoretical gravito-electromagnetism than anything else, and it’s pleasant enough to talk about, but there’s no use pretending magnetism alone is the splashy topic it was two hundred years ago. </p><p>So he is pleasantly surprised when, chatting and enjoying refreshments with James Ross and Ann in the foyer afterward, a certain face lingering near the back of the room catches his attention. </p><p>The man is by himself—tall, dark, and handsome all over—swirling a cup of punch in one large, elegant hand. On a first glance, one might peg him for a doctoral candidate or instructor, perhaps. Yet how many physics students are this dashing? Francis himself never cut so handsome a figure. </p><p>They catch each other’s eye by chance, and Francis’ heart pounds. The stranger’s lashes flutter over his cheekbones when he looks away, a small secret smile on his mouth. He pushes a long strand of hair behind his ear.</p><p>Beside Francis, Ross is carrying the conversation like the champion socialite he is, and Francis takes the moment to slip away. He moves between clusters of people, nodding and returning handshakes when he’s congratulated, answering the stray question. But he has his destination set and does not waver, buoyed by unusual daring. Francis is the keynote speaker, after all. Does that not entitle him to a hint of swagger?</p><p>“You come here often?" Francis says as he reaches the man’s side. </p><p>The man snorts very loudly into his drink. </p><p>“Do I…?” His face registers mild amazement, verging on mirth. “Do I often come to educational lectures about magnetism's quantum-mechanical origins? No, I would have to say I don’t. In fact, experts have told me I’m rather hopeless on the topic,” the man says with a twinkle in his eye. </p><p>Francis clears his throat. “Oh, I’m sure that’s…well.”</p><p>Apparently taking mercy on him, the man offers his hand. “I’m James.”</p><p>Francis is slow to take it, too taken with the fall of the man’s hair, his low amused voice. “Ah. Captain Francis Crozier, Royal Navy.” </p><p>James’ eyes widen. “A sailor? That wasn’t on the programme. Here I was, about to call you Professor.”</p><p>Francis is smiling back helplessly. “I’d love it if you called me Francis.”</p><p>The man blushes. Oh, Francis is in trouble.</p><p>James doesn’t release Francis’ hand, but sets aside his drink in order to hold it properly, turning it over. His thumb slides up the warm crease of Francis’ palm, careful of old calluses and worn edges. </p><p>“Yes, I see it now. No mere professor’s hands, these.” He lifts it to his face, and Francis hopes, ridiculously, that James will kiss the back of his hand. But the lips stop short. James breathes in, hums, brushing over Francis’ knuckles. “Can almost smell the sea on you.” </p><p>He looks up through his lashes, and the loss of blood pressure strikes Francis without mercy, all the heat diverting to a much less publicly appropriate area of his anatomy. He may only have seconds before learning the true meaning of a swoon, all in the presence of friends and professional colleagues. </p><p>With the last rational part of his brain, he notices Ross tossing him a questioning glance from across the parlor. Francis tries for subtle, waving him off with his free hand. All well. Ross glances between them, finally grinning and flashing Francis a thumbs up. </p><p>“Friend of yours?” the James in front of him says, too sharp to miss it. Impressive, given that he’s in the midst of giving Francis a slow, thorough once-over. </p><p>“He—yes, from my Navy days. Married and safely domesticated, I assure you.”</p><p>A fire smolders in James’ eyes, dark and wild. Francis wants to burn. </p><p>“Am I to understand,” says James, closer, “that makes you the wilder, unsafe variety of sailor?” He contemplates their hands. “But you’re far from shore, Captain. Are you feeling out of your element?”</p><p>“I could be…more in my element, that’s true.” Francis realizes his mouth has been open. He blinks, trying to refocus. </p><p>James casts a look around the room, checking over his shoulder at the room’s occupied parties. “I find myself in need of some fresh air. Would the Captain care to accompany me?”</p><p><em>Accompanying</em> <em>him</em> turns out to be a side door into the small garden beside the lecture hall, covered in ivy-laden walls and night-blooming flowers opening in their plots along the walkway. Francis takes the first opportunity to press James against a shadowed wall and kiss him until he moans.</p><p>“Captain Crozier, are you trying to seduce me?” James says into his mouth, the absolute brat. </p><p>“Thought I told you to call me Francis.” His voice is hoarse. James strains for his mouth again, but Francis holds him down by his jaw, covering those pretty lips with his thumb. He’s let in at once, no games at all, sucked and petted by James’ tongue. It is suddenly imperative that Francis bite into that elegant neck, suck on the skin salted perfectly by summer air and exertion. He lowers his lips over James’ skin, breathes him in. “Say it, say my name.”</p><p>“Francis, Francis…”</p><p>He kisses the side of James’ neck to reward him, letting him feel Francis’ teeth. Oh, the taste of him. “Not so loud, now,” he says when the whimpers vibrating just under his mouth are loud enough to carry. “Can’t have anyone stepping out and seeing the mess I’m about to make of you.”</p><p>James chokes out a keen that sounds more like a sob. Francis nips again, lower, until his hips jerk forward. That’s better, feeling him shaking and hungry to have Francis’ hands on him. </p><p>They paw at each other in the dark, trying to find ways in. Francis tugs a belt out of the way and finally has room to open James’ trousers. His hard cock rises up like a faithful pet to sniff Francis’ hand. He grasps it, squeezing and feeling James swell in his palm. </p><p>“There you are. Good boy, that’s it.” He swirls the slick around the crown, kissing James quiet when he gets loud. A tongue presses past his teeth, and he gives James his mouth, hard and sloppy as he wants. “Christ, you’re wet.”</p><p>“Saw you,” James says, desperately pawing at him. Trying to get to his cock. “Before. Knew you’d be good.”</p><p>“Knew you needed my cock in you, more like. Is that all you could think about during the lecture? How to get me in you, you needy thing?” </p><p>They pull apart enough that Francis can grip him by his arms, turn him around to face the garden wall. Francis pushes his trousers down his flanks, unexpectedly charmed by the clatter of change as the fabric pools around his knees. He covers James’ exposed arse, shielding him and moving to bite the tender skin behind his ears. </p><p>“God, yes. Fuck me.” James gasps and writhes under him, not trying to get away but too eager to stay where he’s put. Francis can feel the shudders through James’ long muscles under his palms. “Right here. Please, please. We can be quick, nobody will come out here…”</p><p>“I don’t usually bring lubricant with me to lectures,” Francis says dryly. <em>Any more</em>, he could add. Depending on the academic conference, he seems to recall vendors were happy to supply it for free, the horny bastards. </p><p>He reaches around to James’ abdomen, swiping his fingertips through the precome and uses it to stroke his own cock, adding spit. He leans forward, pants into James’ lovely hair. “If we had time, I’d spend hours seeing how wet I could make you, James. Work you open with your own slick, bounce you on my cock until you were nothing but pretty tears, begging to come with me in you.”</p><p>James swears. “Francis.” His ears burn hot under Francis’ gentling kisses. </p><p>“Cross your legs.” Francis checks the area around him, sensitive to every nearby sound. He looks back and helps angle James’ hips out, nearly bending him over so he’s braced with his forearms on the wall. “That’s it, nice and tight for me.” </p><p>As tempting as it is, he doesn’t thrust between James’ thighs at once. Gives him time to properly hook one ankle over the other, clench until his buttocks dimple. With one hand he reaches around, holds the root of James’ prick. He rocks his hips slowly, not with force yet, just letting James feel his length, how hard he is along the seam where those thighs press together. </p><p>“Yes, yes, yes,” James is saying, almost chanting it under his breath. The poor thing quivers between Francis’ hand and his cock. </p><p>This is going to be quite embarrassing if the facility has security cameras posted in the garden.</p><p>“Brace up, lad,” says Francis, spitting into his hand and giving himself a rough few strokes before guiding his cock between James’ legs. James clenches around him, long formidable thighs trapping him in their heat. Francis groans, feeling blessed and broken open. “Christ, James, yes. Just like that.”</p><p>He’s relentless, pushing between James’ thighs, through him, until his cockhead nudges against James’ balls. Without proper lube, the first thrusts are rough, but soon enough he has James soaked with spit and slick and is pumping into him at a steady, brutal pace. He wonders if James will have marks where Francis is holding his hip, bracing him. </p><p>James makes him work for it, and Francis wants to lavish him with every praise and pleasure each time he tenses his legs against a driving thrust. Here is the spirited man who flirted without shame in the foyer. </p><p>“Want to feel you, Francis,” he says, choked. Most of his noises are helpless whines, grunts rattled out of lungs as Francis fucks into him. His hands are tensed and white from bracing back from the wall. The rest is this: strong, challenging, demanding Francis’ best. “Want to feel it after. Come on, let me have it.”  </p><p>Francis bends nearly in two, mouthing at the nearest bit of James in fathomless yearning. He wants more, more of James, more of this night. He’s perhaps more sentimental than he should be in these circumstances, but it can’t be helped. He wants to kiss James, he wants to hold him tight in his arms and whisper filth into him until he trembles, fuck him until dawn or throw a leg over his hips and ride James himself. It’s not something he thinks often, but oh,to be young again, with a young man’s stamina. </p><p>James reaches down, catching the swollen head of Francis’ cock with his fingertips as it pushes through his thighs. The greedy touch unlatches something in Francis. In only a few more desperate, frantic thrusts, he goes rigid, gasping as he reaches his peak between James’ legs. </p><p>Those fingers clasp onto the tip of his cock, keeping him there until he’s milked of his last few spurts. He’s sure James can feel him shudder, worse when he hears encouraging words. “Just like that, Francis. Let me have all of it, I won’t let you be greedy.” And those creamy thighs—long, ridiculous, able to carry this man over continents, Francis is sure—squeeze him mercilessly of every last drop, until Francis hisses for mercy.</p><p>“My god, James. Have pity on an old man.” Slowly, he releases James’ hips and straightens his sorry back. He catches James’ hand before he can stroke himself off as well. “Turn around.”</p><p>For a quiet moment they stand close, breathing. James noses along his neck, his cheek, searching with half-closed eyes for his mouth to be kissed. Instead, keen and hungry for every fleeting emotion that crosses James’ face, Francis watches his face and brings his hand up to suck each finger clean. </p><p>Dark eyes snap open, wide, watching him. Francis draws each long finger into his mouth, licking it clean, and James’ breathing becomes deeper once again, heavy—finally catching when Francis kneels, spreading James’ legs to clean the rest of him.</p><p>“Your knees, darling—”</p><p>“Hush, James.” His prick gives an eager twitch when Francis breathes over it. Francis slides his palm over it. “Keep an eye out in case we’re followed. I have a feeling this won’t take long, though.”</p><p>That earns him a huff, but no argument. And then a gasp. </p><p>Perhaps James didn’t expect for Francis to let out a low groan, bordering on a snarl, and to plant his face to James’ groin to fill his lungs with warm skin and musk. The closest Francis will ever be to a sommelier: rubbing his nose over James, breathing deep to sample his smell ahead of tasting him properly. </p><p>He lifts his chin to meet James’ eyes, holding them as he finally closes his mouth over James’ straining cock. </p><p>Despite watching every movement, James manages to express shock. His whole body jerks under Francis’ hands, hips bucking. Francis swallows, flexing his throat to take him. James stares in wonder, open-mouthed, until Francis moans like he’s starving for it. Then James covers his mouth. </p><p>“Christ. Francis, wait, I—”  Trying to warn him, the beautiful boy. As though Francis can’t feel him shaking apart. “Your mouth, my god. I won’t last.”</p><p>He pulls off James in a long hard suck, chuckling. “That’s the idea. If you please, put your hands on my head and fuck me.” He kisses the wet head of James’ cock, the barest graze of his lips. “Love to see how pretty you are when you come.”</p><p>The expression on James’ face is briefly unreadable. Disbelief, amazement, fondness? It all melts into deep animal pleasure when Francis wraps his lips around the root of James’ cock, mouthing along the length, curling his tongue to guide it home. He hums until the cavern of his mouth buzzes when he feels James’ hands in his hair. The nails draw over his scalp, pulling Francis off and back in, one loose, sloppy glide. </p><p>The great benefit of this is how quickly it will finish James off. Already close, it takes an endearingly short amount of time before James bites off a cry above him. One hand flies from Francis’ head, clapping over James’ mouth. His movements lose all control, rutting mindlessly, utterly lost to what Francis is doing with him. Francis takes everything, throat flexing around James’ length every time he swallows. </p><p>Francis tries to catch James when he sags, overworked legs threatening to buckle beneath him. He manages to open his arms and slow the descent, letting James sink towards him like a wobbly newborn lamb. They sit on the garden path, tangled in a heap, catching their breath. Francis mindlessly strokes over a thigh, warming James’ bare skin. </p><p>Unsure, voice rough and sounding quite breathless, Francis says, “All right, James?”  </p><p>James looks at him as though to nod, but his eyes catch on Francis’ mouth. Wet and swollen from use, Francis assumes. He’s about to reassure him there’s no harm done, when James cups his face and kisses him deeply. </p><p>Must not mind the prospect of the taste, Francis thinks, warm all over. He holds the side of James’ neck, brushes a strand of sweat-damp hair from his face. “We won’t want to be found in this state,” he reminds James gently, stroking his cheek with his thumb.</p><p>James gives a small, dazed sort of nod. “If you insist, darling.”</p><p>Francis smiles and presses a kiss to James’ forehead.</p><p>With some effort, they guide each other to their feet. Return their clothes to some semblance of respectable. James helps him with his tie, touch lingering on Francis’ chest when he’s finished. </p><p>“There you are, Captain,” James says, so fondly Francis couldn’t tell him off if he wanted to. James smooths out another wrinkle at Francis’ shoulder. “Good as new, I should think. Very handsome.”</p><p>That should be it, yet some force draws them together again, near enough for kissing. “Go on,” Francis says, when James doesn’t. He sighs. “I’ll follow in a minute. Still need to say my goodbyes.”</p><p>It takes a few seconds to pull away. Time enough for one more lingering kiss, and another, and another still. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Francis is tired in his bones by the time he gets home, perhaps an hour later. Inside it’s quiet and dark, but he hears movement from upstairs. </p><p>In their bathroom, he finds James already in soft comfortable clothes, standing at the sink getting ready for bed. Francis comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around his husband’s middle. “Come here often?” he murmurs into James’ hair, swaying a bit. </p><p>James chuckles and leans against him. “I still can't decide if you were <em>trying</em> to make me laugh with that one.” He turns to kiss Francis on the cheek. “Welcome home, darling. How are the Rosses? I didn’t have a chance to say hello.”</p><p>“Hm? Oh, they’re well. Send their love.”</p><p>“I think we can declare both your lecture and date night a success. Well done, Francis.”</p><p>Francis plants a kiss on James’ shoulder in thanks, making the appropriate sounds of listening. He can’t seem to stop sinking into James’ warmth. His arms stray over James’ middle and chest, and he noses at the nape hidden beneath fragrant dark curls. </p><p>James relaxes against him, holding Francis and lolling his head back. “Admiring your handiwork?” </p><p>Now that Francis looks, there are indeed the beginnings of love marks scattered here and there on James’ neck and shoulders. “My word.” Francis places a fresh kiss over each one. “This is some brutish work, James. I should be gentler with you.”</p><p>“You should get dressed and hop into bed so it’s warm when I join you. How does that sound?”</p><p>He gives James a loving squeeze. “Marvelous.” </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I think it'd be neat if modern au Francis was still a Fellow of the Royal Society. not just a nerd but nerd <i>royalty</i>. nerds LOVE using corny pick-up lines on their husbands during spicy roleplay date nights.</p><p>I'm on <a href="https://twitter.com/djsoliloquy">twitter</a>/<a href="https://djsoliloquy.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>, come yell with me about cold boys.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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